


Drugs, Drag, and Jealousy

by TempusNoKitsune



Series: All-Together AU [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Ambiguous Relationships, Connor Deserves Happiness, Drag Club, Drag Queens, Emotionally Repressed, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Misunderstandings, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, RK1700 - Freeform, RK900 is Nines, Tsundere Gavin Reed, Undefined Relationship, androids doing drag, connor taking samples, emotionally constipated Hank Anderson, gavin reed is a jealous boy, in case that triggers you like it triggers hank, in future, possible rating bump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-08-25 18:56:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16666378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempusNoKitsune/pseuds/TempusNoKitsune
Summary: RK800 and RK900 are assigned a case. They have worked together before, though mostly with the buffer of their human counterparts. Hank and Gavin don't take any of this nearly as well as Connor and Nines do...





	1. CONNOR

**Author's Note:**

> The chapters are going to alternate POV's, so the Chapter names will correspond to the POV

Connor shifts on his feet, it’s a steadying motion meant to make him see more human. In this case, it’s geared to the heavy air of awkwardness in the office. He’s standing near the back, off to the side of Hank’s chair, much as RK900, Nines, is standing off to the side of Gavin’s. Fowler has been readjusting in his seat for the last 50 minutes enough that his chair has started squeaking. As of so far there doesn’t really seem to be a reason from it aside from the general apprehension that comes from having Lieutenant Anderson and Detective Reed in the same room.

    “Seems pretty standard,” Hank grouses, “Why do you need both of us?”

    “Well,” Fowler begins, taking a moment to sit himself up more, a human action meant to make someone seem more assertive, “It’s not that we need both of you. Anderson, Reed, you’re not on the case.”

    “What the fuck? What do you mean, “not on the case”?” Gavin spits out, pushing himself forward in his seat.

    Fowler seems bolstered up by Gavin’s outburst, something familiar in a situation he’s otherwise uncomfortable with. “It means, Reed, that this is a case not for you, but for your androids.”

Connor blinks a few times, and can feel the motion mimicked by his bodily counterpart. Since the discovery of the latent RK900 unit, he and Connor have had an easy and accessible link that leaves them able to connect without physical contact. It’s effective and efficient.

“What?” It sounds like an echo as both the Lieutenant and Detective say it with a slight delay from one another.

“You heard me.” Fowler growls out, his eyes lifting up from the humans to their android counterparts. “You two will be going undercover at the Emerald Club, and the other will have to cover up their LED and go with them as a “human” counterpart.”

Connor can see the RK900 nod out of the corner of his eye, his LED only flickers once, but stays blue. Connor is sure that his own is blinking as he pulls up an automatic search.

“Emerald Club.” He repeats back. “The mixed drag club located in Ferndale. Popular for it’s drag queens, a majority of which are human though they do have 2 all time drag androids.”

Hank has progressively become more and more tense throughout the description, and Detective Reed only barely lasts until the end of the statement before he bursts out laughing.

“Y-you...you’re kidding, right!?” Gavin wheezes. “You’re gonna get them to go undercover? This 2-bit toaster over here and the brick wall behind me? Oh, yeah, that’s gonna go great.”

“Can it Reed.” Fowler gestures loosley at the humans directly in front of him. “You two are dismissed, I need to talk to your androids.”

“You’re serious…” Hank says slowly. The tense line of his shoulders hasn’t lessened at all, and he’s begun shifting at regular intervals.

“Gravely.” The Captain throws back, though the tone of his voice sounds as though he wishes that he wasn’t.

Detective Reed throws his hands up and rocks onto his feet before storming huffily out of the office. Hank is a bit slower to go, and throws a small look back at Connor. He nods softly in return, ticking his mouth up just a bit in the corner in what he’s some to understand is a reassuring way. It seems to work as the door falls closed with a small woosh of air.

“I don’t want to have to repeat myself more than necessary, so I won’t.” Fowler slides open one of the drawers on his desks and lifts out to modestly sized pads. They’re nearly clear right now, but they’ll light up upon interfacing. “Everything you need to know is downloaded here. You’ll have the rest of today and part of tomorrow to prepare before you have to ship out. The department’s covering the cost of the hotel and the need-to-know staff knows that you’ll be coming. Try not to screw things up too badly.”

Connor nods and holds his hand out to retrieve the pads, one of which he moves to pass over to RK900. They meet eyes for a moment. It’s a small enough movement that the human eye would not have caught it, but in that time they’ve had what’s akin to a silent conversation. Fowler keeps them for a few more minutes after that, just going off of basics and giving them the information that’s not going to be a part of the package. This “information” is nearly the most problematic for the case, not in terms of difficulty per say, but certainly outside of their realm of expertise to be sure.

After leaving the office they trail quietly over to their respective desks.

“How’d it go?” Hank asks as he sits down.

Connor looks down to the tablet as he places it on the desk and has it connect to the terminal. He looks back up once the glass panel begins to shine a cobalt blue, and tilts his head slightly.

“Well. There’s not much to be said as of yet. We’ve been given the current files to review.”

Hank nods and shifts in his seat. He’s been doing that a lot. He’s uncomfortable. Connor’s LED spins.

“Is something wrong Lieutenant?”

“Huh? No, no...I just think this is a little fucking much.”

Connor blinks, his LED whirls again.

“What do you mean?”

Hank moves to shrug but awkwardly aborts the motion somewhere in the middle, leaving his shoulders at an odd angle as he reaches up to rub at his face.

“I don’t know. Sounds pretty forward from what we know, going full undercover like that’s a bit of a showboat for a job like this, don’t ‘ya think?”

Connor sits back a bit from where his processor had him leaning closer to appear interested. He looks back down at the tablet, brushing his fingers over it and letting his skin melt away.

“Not necessarily.” He counters, pressing his palm flat against the device, LED spinning yellow as the files transfer. “If one of us can get the target interested there’s a likelihood that we’ll be able to not only get a full facial scan of both him and his groupies, but also an accurate DNA sample.”

Hank’s eyes snap over to him at that, flickering to his temple for a moment to take in the flickering light before locking back on his eyes.

“The fuck does that mean?” He asks, a bit too loudly, before coughing and continuing on. “”DNA sample”.”

Connor tilts his head slightly, connecting to the terminal and responding on automatic, the response already programmed in.

“A DNA sample can come in the form of skin cells, hair, or spit. I am able to analyse DNA results in real time and cross reference them with case files. The most efficient mode is through spit.”

The files flash before his eyes, and he pulls a couple of the packages to be temporarily downloaded onto his core, leaving the others to hang on the server.

“So, you’re gonna have some guy spit on you?” Hank asks. There’s a slight inflection to the question that makes it sound as though he’s going for a lighter joking tone. Connor flicks his eyes back over to the man across from him.

“Not on me, no. Then I wouldn’t be able to process the sample.” He tilts his head slightly and turns back towards the monitor.  “I’ll have to ingest the sample. Likely through mouth to mouth contact. Though I can also take a DNA analysis through a sample of ejaculate or urine.”

Perhaps that was a bad time for the Lieutenant to have taken a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, as he lurches forward and makes a noise like the liquid didn’t quite make it down his esophagus. Connor looks back over at him, LED swirling yellow once.

“You what?!” Hank blurts, and just as Connor opens his mouth he’s interrupted.

“RK800.”

He looks up, responding automatically to his designation. RK900 is standing to the side of his desks, standing just those couple of inches taller than he is, broad shoulders pushed back and facing the doors, though his eyes are cut over just slightly.  

Connor gives his head a small nod, and pushes himself up from his chair, synth-skin slowly covering his chassis as his hand leaves the interface surface. He looks back to Hank. The man’s core temperature is slightly elevated, though not enough to be concerned about. His mouth quirks up slightly.

“I’ll see you in a little over a week lieutenant, feel free to contact me as you see fit.”

Hank doesn’t really have a chance to respond as the two RK units turn and fall into eerily synced step as they leave the precinct.

 


	2. NINES

RK900 has never been on a case with only the RK800 before. They have worked together, though mostly with the buffer of their human counterparts. It’s not to say that RK900 necessarily required said buffer, in fact, there was ultimately a curiosity as to the eminent effectivity of the work produced between the two most advanced androids ever produced.   

Their human partners seemed less than pleased to have been excluded from the current case, and even a preliminary scan of their vitals was enough to indicated an increase in internal temperature and a heightened perspiration rate. RK900 ignored these readings. They weren’t of consequence. Though there was something to be said for the vast improvement in his relationship with Detective Reed as of the last few months. However, this change had come with an increase in popups indicating an increases in software instability. 

He shakes himself mentally and glances over to his right. Connor sits primly beside him, their posture almost the same with only minor differences to account for their minute shift in build and Connor’s advanced social programming. The automated driving service pulls to a slow stop in front of a rather nondescript building. Unlike the flashy signage of places like the Eden Club, the Emerald club was in a was in a moderately sized brick building, and was marked only by its green door and small, elegant, gold script.

They barely even make it in the door before they’re accosted by the highly energetic owner, and three of the main performers. The owner is a human, but the main dancers are two androids and a human that seem to draw little to no line between them. The conversation is going a mile an hour, and Nines separates his attention between a detailed scan and inventory of building and maintaining a running interest in the information that the owner is spewing at him. The man is eager to help at least, which makes the whole operation much easier.

He turns slightly to his right as they shuffle in towards the main room, a dark area with colourful walls and a large centre stage, only to find that the RK800 has disappeared. His LED circles yellow once, and he turns his head in a slow surveying motion until he finds a familiar head of brown hair. Connor is surrounded by the main performers, who are smiling and flitting around him with wandering hands and various pieces of vibrant clothing. The other android seems a bit flustered, his own LED a flickering yellow, but he’s smiling gently and responding to the others as they talk to him.

RK900 turns back to the conversation at hand.

“We’ve got cameras all over the place.” The owner, Andy Sothers, places a hand on his shoulder, guiding him slightly in way that Nines allows for now. “Y’Know, I really wanna keep all my gals safe. It’s a priority for me. If business takes a hit ‘cause of all of this, I’ll figure it out, but I just want my girls to be safe, feel safe, and for my customers to know that they’re gonna be okay.”

He flicks his eyes over to the man’s face. He seems genuine, and Nines gives him a slight nod.

“The Detroit Police Department appreciates your compliance and assistance. The RK800,” Nines makes a small gesture over to where Connor is still being doted on, “Connor, and I will make sure to close this case in as timely and discretely a manner as we can.”

Sothers shoots him a toothy smile and looks over at where his main performers are circled up around the other android officer.

“Seems like they’ve taken a liking to him. Boy’d make a good queen, he has a soft, strong, pretty look, and a nice sassy stride.”

Nines resists the urge to lift an eyebrow, something akin to amusement alighting inside him. They hadn’t decided upon roles as of yet, however, it seems as though the roles have been chosen for them through sheer happenstance and first impressions.

“Anyway, a couple of last things.” Sothers pushes him a bit to direct him further towards the stage. The surface is saturated in glitter and he shifts slightly to the side to avoid contact with the invasive substance. 

They move back through a barely visible door into the hallway leading to the entrances of the private rooms and the dressing and performers lounging area. The owner shows him a bright pink door and explains that the private room has been set aside expressly for their use for the duration of the case. RK900 makes a note to retrofit the room with small cameras and microphones that are remotely accessible. He’s also given a short tour of the lounging area and dressing setup, completing a perfunctory scan and completing and uploading the floor-plan of the bar complex to the DPD database.

As they walk back out towards the main room Nines makes an effort to seem grateful. Social interaction is far from his primary functions, such intricacies usually falling on the earlier RK unit. His eyes land on his predecessor, and he blinks at the scene of the android sat on a high table with a small crown sitting lopsided on his head and three different coloured boas wrapped around his throat and over his shoulders. The androids are on either side of him, smiling brilliantly and laughing intermittently, likely at what the human positioned in the front is saying. The human man is easily 6’5”, and looks a bit strange pedaling out his feet in exaggerated movements, hands grabbing the ends of one of the boas, and moving them up and down in little waves. Connor’s LED is a solid blue, and his lips are upturned.

RK900 turns towards Mr. Sothers and offers his hand, inclining his head slightly.

“Thank you for the tour. We’ll be back in the afternoon on Friday.”

Sothers nods, and grabs his hand in a strong embrace.·

“Connor.” He calls shortly, turning sharply and walking out onto the street after making eye contact with his predecessor. 

Nines calls up another taxi, and holds it with a foot on the floor of the back seat, standing indifferently in the cool Detroit air.


	3. CONNOR

Connor felt a bit out of his element. While adept at interaction and at least mild assimilation with humans, his main function is as an interrogation and detective model. This means that he lacks any pre-programming related to extended undercover missions, and has little to nothing to run on. Thankfully, the android performers offered him a few downloadable packages to help him blend in. One for dance and walking related movements, and one to sheathe him in the sheer glitter similar to that of the WR and HR-400 androids of Eden club.

The main stage performers were very pleasant, and seemed to be very interested in him. He walks out of the club waving over his shoulder, bright boas wrapped around his neck, crown on his head, and a list of things to buy for the upcoming performances. RK900 clears his throat to make a point as Connor steps outside, and he startles only slightly before speeding up to slide into the car waiting for them.

“Sorry.” He offers shortly as the newer RK model slides in behind him.

Nines just shakes his head and looks over, eyes dancing around his new accoutrements. 

“I assume you’ll be taking on the performing role then?”

Connor hums lowly, and lays his hand face up just above his knee as a silent offering, synthetic skin melting away to the shiny white plastic beneath. Nine’s hand overlays his own without a moment's hesitation, their LED’s syncing in a spinning yellow as they begin an interface. It’s a fairly simple process, and between the two of them it seems almost natural, their consciousnesses melding and bleeding into each other. 

Connor supposes that something like that ought to be unnerving, perhaps a bit scary as they almost seem to become one individual, but it’s not at all. In fact, there’s something more like a calming wave, something comforting. 

RK900 makes a short noise in the back of his throat and lets his skin crawl back over his hand, but doesn’t remove it from it’s place over Connor’s own.

“Good. That takes care of the majority of your physical cover, which leaves mine to be contrived.”

He nods, head cocking slightly to the side as he considers.

“Perhaps we ought to have another officer create a profile.”

“Mm. I’ll request for the funds to be transferred to our accounts for purchase.”

“They would be traceable back to the DPD-”

“That’s not of consequence. The perpetrator isn’t going to be looking into the credit receipts for the department.”

“Won’t he?”

“You’re giving him too much credit, RK800. He’s a smart man, but he’s not that smart.”

“I think that you’re falling into a trap that he’s intentionally set. It’s not uncommon for individuals to intentionally play dumb to get away with higher crime.”

Nines cuts his eyes over to Connor, unblinking and cold. 

“Maybe.” He says lowly as the car pulls to a slow stop.

Their hands slips apart as they exit the vehicle on their respective sides, feet sinking into a shallow blanket of snow.

Connor’s eyebrows furrow slightly before he carefully smooths them out. They’re at a clean looking apartment complex that he’s never visited before. The building is white and gray, standing at an average 12 floors. Upon a cursory scan, the majority of the building is vacant, and the documentation provided on the legal database says that the building was finished only within the last week. 

“Nines?”

The other android steps in front of him, long, measured strides towards the front door.

“Don’t idle.”

He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut again, starting up on behind Nines. He looks over a couple of times shifting on his feet as they enter the elevator. 

“This my apartment complex.” Nines offers shortly.

“Okay,” He starts, “You’re not staying with Detective Reed?”

RK900 looks over at him for a moment before looking back forward just before the elevator lets out a high pitched beep and the doors slide open on the 10th floor.

Connor doesn’t get a response as they move down the hallway, tailing the younger RK unit close enough to nearly step on his heels. 

“Detective Reed has expressed his displeasure with my continued presence, and so I’ve decided to limit our contact in order to improve our relationship.”

Connor blinks a couple of times as they stop in front of a dark red door and Nines presses his hand to the keypad which beeps as he jockeys the handle and pushes the door open, leaving his hand on a surface as a gesture for Connor to enter in before him.

“You pay rent here?”

“I’m allowed a standard amount of funds for living expenses, and this was my choice.”

Connor doesn’t ask how he came across the allotment, or where he got the funds from. 

The apartment is a fair sized studio, 550 square feet, and is a stark and empty white. There’s an untouched kitchenette, a plastic-looking white bookcase, a rather large glass desk with a computer terminal, and a single sofa slightly off centre in the main room. It looks unlived in, and clean. A scan reveals little that the eye can not. The room is obviously devoid of major organic life.

“How long have you-”

“Yesterday.” Nines cuts him off, maneuvering around his obstruction of the route to the desk, and opening up the interface. “I’m going to bring up the ecommerce front, the funds are in the process of being transferred over. Please place the items you need for Friday in the cart.”

Connor pushes his shoulders back slightly and straightens his back more than necessary. It’s a partially involuntary response in reaction to the sort of cornered small animal feeling encroaching on him with Nines demands. 

He steps forward, their contrasting coats brushing slightly in their proximity. Nines doesn’t move as Connor rapidly sorts through the inventory of the several different websites, filing and saving the identified pieces that the performers from the club had compiled for him.

He steps back once he’s finished, looking to Nines. The other android nods and moves forwards, confirming purchases. 

“I’ll have them deliver everything here. You’ll need to stay until the case is resolved, so feel free to make yourself at home.”

Connor very barely restrains himself from raising an eyebrow, a human mannerism that he’s picked up from the dry witted and sarcastic officers at the DPD. Looking back over the room he moves to sit on the couch. He certainly doesn’t see why he can’t just go back to Hank’s house in between the different parts of the mission, but he’s not about to start off their first case together with an argument that could be easily avoided. Reguardless, making himself at home was not only unnecessary, but in this environment, unlikely...

 


	4. NINES

Having Connor in his new apartment is an interesting experience. There’s something of a feeling of the need to perform as a sort of host despite the fact that there’s very little to host for. They don’t require food or drink, they don’t need to sleep, and they don’t have the need for constant stimulation. Despite this, it’s easy to tell that Connor is almost antsy. It seems oxymoronish to have made a prototype meant for intense interrogations that has a constant need to fidget. 

The moment in which he moves to address this is cut short by an incoming call popping up on his HUD. Nines blinks and reads the ID before picking up, unconcerned of his predecessor’s presence. 

“Hello, Detective Reed.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“I’m at my apartment, with the RK800.”

“You’re at where the phuck? You have a phucking apartment?” Gavin’s voice has raised half a decibel, and his voice is just this side of gravely. It’s likely that he hasn’t had anything to drink or possibly even eat, for an unhealthy amount of time. 

“Yes.”

“Bullshit, you said you didn’t have anywhere to go! Just come home, phcknut.”

RK900’s LED spins yellow once.

“I’m afraid I’m not joking, Detective. You expressed your discomfort with my extended presence, most especially in your home, therefore, I have purchased my own apartment.”

“What?”

“I said-” 

“No, I heard you, I just can’t believe what I heard.” Gavin does sound rather incredulous. His voice is still pitched in such a way that it would be impossible not to tell his displeasure. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“To give you space, and improve our relationship.” He states matter of factly.

There’s a pause for a minute and a half where very little noise translates over the line, though the RK900 can still make out Reed’s quiet breaths. He looks over to the couch for a short moment, checking on Connor who is still sitting in exactly the same place, though his eyes are closed and his LED is spending yellow. It’s not completely unlikely that he’s sifting through paperwork.

“Fine, whatever.” Gavin finally spits out. “Stay at your dumb ass apartment, I don’t care. Just don’t decide what I want for me ever again.” With that the man hangs up, and Nine’s is left with a constantly spinning yellow LED.

Conversely to Gavin’s statement that he doesn’t care whether or not RK900 stays in his new apartment, the tone and inflection of his voice speaks otherwise. He gives his head a short shake as though he might be able to throw off the unhelpful new objectives that pop up.

“Are you okay?” 

Nines snaps his head to the side, LED blinking red once before settling back into a cool blue as he comes back to his current surroundings.

“Is your human often volatile and unwieldy, especially around personal and interpersonal space?”

He shifts slightly closer to the sofa, cautious testing steps and Connor looks up at him and smiles softly. He’s almost positive that they’re both using base interrogation protocols against each other, though it’s quite obvious its more in an attempt to establish a comfortable co-presence rather than to manipulate in any way.

Connor shifts slightly, leaning closer to the opposite arm and looking at the space next to him shortly in an invitation. Nines gracefully folds indo the empty space, back straight and palms placed face down on his thighs.

Connor smiles at him again. “Lieutenant Anderson often “complains” about our constant proximity. Over time and through questioning, I’ve realized that generally the complaints are not genuine. With men like the Lieutenant and the Detective, I believe that such reactions are likely not only what’s come to be expected of them, but almost involuntary defensive responses to prolonged proximity or interest in their lives.”

Nines taps his fingers on his legs a couple of times, replaying a couple of different interactions with Reed and filtering them with Connor’s new input. It seems like the evaluation is likely true, and he nods in Connor’s direction. 

“Was the detective unhappy with your choice to discontinue living with him?”

“He said that he did not care, but his tone implicated that he did, in fact, care.”

Connor hums, and lays one of his hands over Nines own where he had begun to idly tap at his leg again.

“Perhaps you should think about going back to live with him, present him with the option and see what he chooses?”

RK900 continues to look at their hands, thinking.

“Why do you stay with the, Lieutenant?” He inquires quietly.

“I like being with him. I like his dog. It feels...comfortable.”

This time it’s Nines that nods.

Connor squeezes his hand, prompting him to look over at the older android. 

“Why don’t we take a look at some of the surveillance and files for our case, and we can talk more about this after you've had some time to think?”

It’s unnecessary, is his first thought. Connor is treating him not unlike an emotionally compromised human. However, what unsettles Nines more than this course of action is that for some reason he seems to be responding to it. Connor doesn’t seem to find this odd at all, just looking at him with his head tilted slightly and a continued soft smile that is slightly different from a pre-formed or constructed expression. 

Nines is the most advanced android that there is, or will ever be. This shouldn’t work on him, but for some reason the very thought that it shouldn’t is enough for him to make the choice that he is going to let it. 

“Okay. Where would you like to begin?”


	5. Chapter 5

    One day slides into the next, occupied predominantly by researching dances and different walks and flirtatious movements. He does, however, finish several back-listed reports and combs through some of Hank’s and his old paperwork. The packages that they had ordered after their initial visit to the Emerald Club were do to arrive, and the tracker had them only minutes away.

    Connor had stripped off his jacket and tie, leaving one hanging in the small closet in the living area and was sitting idly on the couch when the alert that the packages had arrived pinged up in his HUD. Nines, who was sat at the terminal, turned his head sharply signaling that he had also received the alert.

    “The mailboxes are on the first floor, to the right of the elevators. I’ve approved your access.”

    “Thank you.”

    Nines deign to respond, his eyes never straying from the screen in front of him. Connor looked at him for a moment longer before turning and making his way down to the first floor. The mail room is marked by a bright blue door, proclaiming its designation in cheery rounded letters. When Connor placed his palm on the small pad to the right the door slid open. Though he had been expecting something more akin to the small, locker adorned mail room of the DPD precinct, the room is of moderate size with the names of its tenants on the walls.

    Connor almost skips over Nines’s space at first, expecting it to say “Nines” rather than a clinical “RK900 #313 248 317 - 87.” He blinks a couple of times before stepping forward to pick of the 5 boxes that tower precariously above his head as he carries them back to the elevator.

    _Nines, could you please open the door for me?_ He asks silently, standing patiently at the door that he has no means of opening himself, cheek pressed to a cool box.

    Though he gets no verbal or non-verbal response, the door audibly opens and three of the boxes are pulled off of the stack before he even has the chance to decline help.

“I think I have a pair of scissors in the kitchen.”

Connor nods shortly and places the boxes on the coffee table.

There is, in fact, a pair of scissors in the kitchenette. They’re older than the RK900 himself, and by touch alone Connor can tell that they’re from Detective Reed’s house.

Nines sits on the couch next to connor as they go back and forth cutting the tape off of packages before opening the boxes and placing their contents out on the small coffee table. There’s barely enough room for the contents of the first three boxes on the small table before the begin setting things beside them, and ultimately leaving them in the box. Once the last of the boxes have been opened Connor surveys the pieces.

“It seems...a bit excessive. Though based on the footage we’ve reviewed I’m almost afraid that this won’t quite be enough.”

Connor’s mouth twitches up slightly and he shakes his head.

“Even if it’s not, the performers that we met with have assured me that if there is anything that seems even the slightest bit off that they will be more than happy to make sure that I look as “accurate” as possible.”

Nines hums lowly and reaches forward to pick up an ice pink skirt that cuts up in the middle to just below his knee while touching his ankles on either side, though there’s enough fabric that it will close over the gap in a gentle casdcade. He rubs the soft fabric between his fingers before gently placing it back down and moving to lift up the blouse meant to go with it. The top is a soft, baby blue, with a loose tie at the top that leaves a small keyhole gap where the cleavage would be. The sleeves are short and ruffled, and will fall in waves on his shoulders.

“This is...rather tame.” Nines comments, turning his head only slightly as though to accuse Connor of buying inefficient clothing.

He just smiles and reaches out to pick up a thick plastic bag which looks to contain his wig. The colour matches his own to the t, and even though it has been folded up to be transported it still retains the majority of its tight ringlet curls.

The rest of the boxes consist of various kinds of makeup, underthings, etc., and then there are the boots. Upon pulling them from their packaging they seem to almost go forever. Nines blinks slowly and picks up the other boot.

The other RK unit opens his mouth before his LED spins yellow and he closes it once again.

“You ordered things as well, didn’t you, Nines?” He asks softly.

Nines stares at the boot for a moment longer before turning his attention to Connor as though snapping out of some sort of trance.

“I...sent a message to Officer Chen, and she said that she would be 'enthusiastically dropping off something to me by 8 tonight at the latest.'"

“That sounds...promising.”

Nines gently tucks the boot back in its box and sits back, tilting his head as he leans just slightly more into Connor’s space than human norms would deign as appropriate.

“One can only hope.”

Connor’s first instinct is to point out this invasion of space to aid in his cover for the mission. However, the complete lack of issue with personal space may actually aid in the furthering of his overtly sexual and invasive character. With that in mind, Connor just nods and tucks a strand of hair that has come loose just behind the younger android’s ear.

He’s pleasantly surprised by the almost imperceptible blue tinge that rises to the tops of Nines’s cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> This story fits within the "All-together" universe.  
> This universe is made up of slight alterations to the canonical universe and the contrived fandom universe. The timeline jumps around, and the fics and any accompanying art/comics should still be easily follow-able even without too much knowledge on the AU.
> 
> A.K.A. all of that was a long way to say: Can be read as a stand alone
> 
> (Will add links to info as they become available if interested)  
> AO3 info Masterlist: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16701037/chapters/39169813


End file.
